"Get busy," the teacher snapped.
James Merlin ran his study hall the way a drill sergeant ran a platoon. If he saw someone sitting idle doing nothing, he snapped at him to bring him to attention. In this particular instance, the idle student sat in the second row on the left in the back of the auditorium.
Merlin had just barked an order at the loafer, and as he promptly walked away, Merlin expected his order to be carried out.
What was not expected, or welcome, was an impertinent response.
"Why?" a voice said behind him.
Merlin stopped abruptly in mid-stride.
The voice continued.
"Why do I have to get busy? Why can't I just sit here quietly? Why can't you just let me be?"
Slowly, Merlin turned to face the owner of the voice. With his long brown hair and muscular arms, Merlin looked like a figure out of Greek mythology so it was ironic that he taught science.
He narrowed his green eyes as he tightened his fists.
"What did you say?" he said through gritted teeth.
The calm eerie voice came back at him.
"Why do I have to get busy? Why do I always have to be doing something? I'm just sitting here being quiet; I'm not bothering anyone. Why can't I just rest for a few seconds?" The voice rose in emotional intensity. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Above his brown beard, the eyes of James Merlin widened, and there was shock and fear on his face. Because while Mr. Merlin could hear the words being spoken, the teacher also saw that the mouth of the student was not moving.
Imagine the voice of Rod Serling:
"It's another day for Mr. James Merlin as he conducts his early afternoon study hall in his usual harsh heavy-handed manner. Except this is not a typical day, and this study hall is no longer an ordinary everyday study hall. This study hall is now part of 'The Twilight Zone.'"
Imagine a field of bright stars as the "Twilight Zone" theme music concludes in a dramatic music sting. We then fade back into the auditorium where the study hall takes place. Gentle music plays as we slowly move in for a close-up of the student.
The student has a bowl haircut of light-colored hair; there are freckles on his face. This student looks a lot like Billy Mumy from the episode "It's A Good Life."
There is anger in his eyes as he looks directly at the teacher, Mr. Merlin. It's as if the student is trying to cut the teacher down with a look.
We now focus on the teacher.
For a moment, James Merlin looked befuddled and dazed but he quickly recovered and adopted an angry harsh look.
"How are you doing that?" he demanded.
"How do you think? When a person puts up with enough garbage, something rises up inside him so he has power, so he can respond and fight back."
"Are you a mutation?"
"Are you stupid?" the student retorted. He then adopted a mocking tone of voice. "Maybe I'm just evolved."
The mouth still was not moving. Merlin shook his head. He reminded himself he was a man of science; there was a logical explanation for this, there had to be. It was just an illusion, the mind playing some kind of trick.
The student went on in that voice.
"Do you really think when I'm sitting here quietly that I'm creating a problem? You know who really creates a problem, Mr. Merlin? You do! You yell at one student for just sitting quietly, and you disturb all the other students!"
Merlin tried to hide his fear; it looked like the student's mouth still was not moving. This did not make sense. He was aware of the illusion; why wasn't he seeing through it?
Merlin, ever the drill sergeant (even though he had never been in the military and he despised the military and all those in it), decided he needed to be firm and strong. He drew his upper body up to its full imposing stature.
"Okay, that's enough," he said gruffly. Mr. Merlin was well practiced at gruffness. With that wealth of experience, he adopted a look of grim determination as he moved briskly toward the student.
Abruptly, he stopped, and his body jerked slightly. He found himself frozen in place. He struggled to move but he could not. His scientific mind had trouble grasping this.
Mr. Merlin stood there like a statue of a discus thrower. The only movement was the blinking of his eyes: his mouth seemed unable to move, and he made only the slightest of squeaking noises. There was a look of mild controlled panic on his face. His scientific mindset would not allow him to go into full-blown panic mode.
The voice of the student was calm, eerie, monotone.
"I wonder how many students hate and resent you. That includes past students. I bet they've spent years hating and resenting you. And the students you have now will probably hate you in the years ahead."
Merlin bent over and gasped as he felt a sharp pain in his side.
"Feel that, Merlin? That's just a small part of the pain you cause students."
Merlin saw that the student's mouth was still not moving; the voice was more angry and sinister than before. Merlin was still trying to figure out what was happening when he went flying into a wall.
As a dazed Merlin sat up, he noted the student just sat there with his back to the teacher, his head up proudly and defiantly.
"Thank you for being part of today's show," the student mumbled.
Merlin, though he had an aching head and pain in one arm, rose swiftly and marched toward the student.
"That's enough!" he roared. "I don't know how you're doing this but you're going to get busy. Crack open a book and-"
Merlin went flying again. This time he twirled around in mid-air before he landed stomach down on the floor. Now there was pain in his jaw and both arms. Nevertheless, he struggled to slowly crawl away. As he did, he felt himself being pulled. He slid along the gray dusty floor and out into the main hallway.
Once he came to a halt, Merlin found it a struggle to get up but once he was up, he staggered off to the principal's office.
Gasping and panting, Merlin explained the situation as best he could. Principal Davis contacted the school's police officer, and they headed off to the auditorium where study hall was held. Once they cleared out the other students, they consulted the seating chart. The one remaining student was Billy Walker.
Billy sat there silent and still. David approached carefully and cautiously but the clacking of his own footsteps was unnerving to him..
"So, Billy," Principal Davis said. The echo of his own voice sounded eerie, though he spoke in a gentle jovial voice. "How's it going today?"
"Lousy," the student retorted. "That's how it's going."
"Is that right?" Davis said quietly.
"Yes, that's right!"
"What seems to be the problem? Maybe I can help."
Billy sighed and laughed at the same time. "How about that? Someone here can actually talk in a nice way. Someone can actually be nice. Or at least pretend to. That's pretty rare in this place."
Davis started to reach out to place a comforting hand, thought better of it, pulled back.
"Having a rough time, are you?"
"Uh, yeah! The teachers are mean. It's not bad enough to put up with the students. I have to get yelled at by the teachers if I slip up just a little. It's like they hate being here! It's like they hate the students. It's like they hate me!"
"Sounds tough," Davis murmured.
"Once a teacher yelled at me because I didn't know where my class was. He thought I was smarting off to him! Couldn't he have just helped me find my way instead?"
"Maybe he was having a bad day. Like all of us do. We all have bad days, Billy."
"The teachers here seem to have a bad day every day!"
"That may be, Billy. That may very well be." Davis thought how a kid with powers couldn't be taken down with physical force, he'd have to be talked down.
"It's like I said: it's like the teachers really hate being here! It's almost like they hate the students they're supposed to help!"
"It's like most things, Billy. People start off wanting to do something good but they get worn down and irritated, agitated. Little by little, day by day, they just grown cold and indifferent and even hostile. It isn't something people plan."
"I almost wish there was some kind of super-flu so I wouldn't have to come to school."
"Now, Billy, let's be careful what we wish for." Davis tried to keep his tone even.
"I won't be careful!" As Billy shouted, books started flying around the room. As they whizzed around at great speed and intensity, the police officer moved in but Billy sent him flying, too. When the cop got up, the principal motioned for him to leave. With a nod, the cop made his exit.
Billy went on with his angry words. "I have to put up with students and teachers, and I don't get paid for it. I don't even get to decide what TV shows to watch!"
Davis tried to keep his voice light and cordial but it was tough while the books were flying around accompanied by loud whirring-whizzing noises. Davis had a tough time talking while dodging the flying objects.
"You're a kid," Davis said. "You get to have fun." One book came dangerously close to his head.
"Fun?" Billy retorted. "Once I had to run laps around the gym with the others guys just because somebody messed up in some way. The gym teacher went out of the room. When he came back, he said, 'I didn't see those laps; you'll have to run some more.' Johanason! What a jerk!"
"We want to help, Billy."
"Ha! You don't fool me. You want to take me out and eliminate me, don't you? You just go ahead. Take your best shot. Even if you take me out, other students will rise up and take my place."
"I hope that doesn't happen."
"I bet you do."
The principal was silent.
"When I couldn't climb a rope, Johanason sneered at me that I must watch too much TV. TV is the only fun I get out of life! And why isn't that stupid gym teacher helping me figure out how to do stuff and do it better? Why is he making me climb a rope in front of other students when he didn't give me any warning and he didn't tell me how to get ready?
"Why do I have to go to stupid gym class and do things like play basketball, in just my shorts, when I could be learning how to climb a rope for when I have to do it in front of other people?"
Davis continued to dodge the flying books.
"When's this going to end, Billy? What can we give you or do for you to make all this stop?"
The books all dropped to the floor with loud clattering clumping noises.
"How about you bring in Johanason and I'll twirl him around in the air a few times?"
"How about something even better? We'll have all the teachers try to be better."
"I'll believe that when I see it."
Davis placed a hand over his heart. "I will try to do better," he said solemnly.
That was when the tranquilizer dart went into Billy's neck. He was out instantly.
"Sorry it took so long to find it and bring it over here," the cop murmured.
With the cop next to him, Davis stood over the unconscious Billy.
"He might have been able to communicate with his mind and move objects with his mind. But he couldn't sense what we were planning."
When EMTs took Billy away, Davis gave instructions.
"You'll have to keep him constantly sedated, of course. Scientists will have to study him."
Stupid kid, Davis thought. As if we'd cave in to the demands of a 13-year-old.
As study hall began the next day, Mr. Merlin was back to his usual bossy strutting self.
"Listen up," he said like he was a drill sergeant. "I don't want to see anyone goofing off. I want to see books opened and your heads buried in them."
Shortly after Mr. Merlin got done giving his orders, there were in fact books opened but they were also floating in the air. Some of the students tittered but Merlin barely heard it because all the floating books began flying into his head. His hands flew up as he tried to shield himself while his knees and calves buckled under the barrage.
For the time being, Mr. Merlin had no more orders to give.
Imagine the voice of Rod Serling:
"Mr. James Merlin, a man of science, assumed Billy Walker was an anomaly. As it turns out, other students are also quite fed up with Mr. Merlin and other tyrannical teachers like him. And they have been given a way to express their displeasure in 'The Twilight Zone.'"